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“This is Vanessa,” Cobb said, thrusting a blonde in a low cut top at Arthur like a kid at show and tell. She was dripping with costume jewelry and cloying perfume, noxiously mixed with the smoke of the charcoal grill. She was probably very pretty, if you were in to that sort of thing.
Arthur wasn’t.
“Hi Vanessa,” Arthur nodded, dropping a slice of cheese on his burger. It was hot for Memorial Day, and he had regrets about agreeing to a barbecue at Cobb’s house. It was never just a get together. Frankly, he didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with it. “I’m gay.”
Cobb spit out the beer he was drinking. “You’re gay?” The blonde glared at him as she stalked away. Cobb shrugged at her, apologetically. “I just billed you as my best friend,” he said. “It looks a little strange for me not to know about this.”
“I thought it was obvious,” Arthur replied, not even looking. He shook the ketchup bottle, frowning at the obnoxious sounds it made while it failed to drizzle ketchup on his overcooked hamburger.
Cobb rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “I mean, I know you like a good suit, but—“
“Have you ever seen me with a woman?” Arthur asked, reaching for the mayonnaise.
“Well, no, but… I’ve never seen you with a guy, either,” Cobb said, like that meant something.
“Dom,” Arthur sighed, taking a swig of his beer. “Your whole job is learning secrets.”
“It’s statistically improbable, you know!” Cobb called behind him as Arthur walked away. “I had a 90% chance of being right!”
“That’s a made up number,” Arthur called back. He dropped down at a table across from Ariadne, fumbling his phone and a bottle of beer in one hand, a plate full of summer potluck food in the other. He could feel the eyes of the neighborhood moms on him, angry, like it was his fault Cobb lured one of them here to meet him, like he should feel bad that he was interested in men. He took a frustrated bite of his sandwich, wincing at the dryness as he chewed.
“That went well,” Ariadne smirked. “Where’s Eames?” She waited patiently as Arthur chugged his soda.
“Tailing the mark’s sister,” Arthur said, stabbing his fork into his potato salad.
“Whoa, slow down,” she said. “You just got here.”
“And I’ve got work to do.” He spared a glance at the table full of angry moms. “Besides, I don’t think Cobb would mind if I left early.” On the table, Arthur’s phone buzzed. He wiped his hands hurriedly on the napkin in his lap.
“Who’s Kelly?” Ariadne asked, nudging Arthur’s vibrating phone closer to him.
Arthur frowned. “An old friend.” He took the phone and left the table, dropping his barely touched plate in the trash on his way past.
^~*~^
“Surveillance tonight?” Eames asked, knocking lightly on Arthur’s desk.
“Yes,” Arthur answered, not looking up. He was knee deep in a ream of bank records. He was also exhausted, and it was a Thursday. He wanted to push through these records, get out on time, go with Eames, and get a good six hours of sleep.
“Eames, take Ariadne,” Cobb ordered. Arthur frowned. He leaned his chair back onto two legs.
“What?” Ariadne asked, stepping out from her models.
“Excuse me?” Eames asked, darkly.
“Ariadne needs to focus on the build,” Arthur said.
“Well, you’ve got plans tonight,” Cobb snapped. He erased the whiteboard with more force than was strictly necessary.
“Yeah,” Arthur said, flatly. “With Eames.”
“Your enthusiasm is contagious, darling,” Eames drawled.
“You’ve got plans with Henri,” Cobb said.
Arthur scowled. He dropped his chair to the floor. “You set me up again?”
“You’ll like this one,” Cobb said. “He’s your type. Of course, I would have figured out your type a lot sooner if you’d bothered to tell me you were gay.”
“I thought that was obvious,” Eames muttered.
“Give him a chance,” Cobb implored.
“I don’t want to give him a chance,” Arthur snapped.
“Arthur,” Cobb sighed. He grasped a handful of air, and huffed with frustration. “You can’t spend the rest of your life alone.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that Arthur might have someone at home?” Eames growled.
Arthur dropped his gaze to his desk.
“No, he doesn’t,” Cobb said, squinting in confusion. He looked at Arthur. “No, you don’t.”
“I think this has gone on long enough,” Eames sighed.
“Eames—“ Arthur warned.
Cobb glared at Eames. “Just because you want in Arthur’s pants doesn’t mean he wants to—“
“I’m married,” Arthur blurted, rubbing his temples. “I’m married, Dom.” He sighed, defeated.
“Kelly!” Ariadne gasped. “It’s Kelly, isn’t it?”
Arthur frowned. “It’s not something I intend to publicize in dreamsharing circles. I’d appreciate it if this stays between us.”
“Of course,” she said, reaching a small hand out to grasp his elbow. “Of course, Arthur—“
“But you said you were gay,” Cobb interrupted, squinting more than normal.
“Kelly is a man,” Eames said, shortly.
“You knew about this?” Cobb asked, aghast.
“‘Course I bloody knew about it,” Eames snapped. “I was at the wedding.”
Cobb’s face turned an obnoxious shade of red. “You can’t be serious,” he huffed.
“I was the best man.”
“You were not the best man,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes.
“I could have been,” Eames shrugged. “If somebody bothered to give me more notice of his impending nuptials.”
“You had all the notice you needed, asshole.”
“Somebody should have objected to you marrying that lowlife,” Eames pouted. He crossed his arms. “Bit of a shotgun wedding, anyway, wasn’t it?”
“Do we not like Kelly?” Ariadne asked, under her breath.
Eames frowned. “He’s never been good enough for Arthur,” Eames said, seriously. “He treats Arthur half as well as he deserves.” He paused, thoughtful. “Handsome bloke, though.”
Arthur punched Eames in the arm. “He treats Arthur just fine, thank you. Arthur is very happy.”
“When did this happen?” Cobb asked, eyes mutinous.
“June 20,” Arthur sighed. “2008.”
“Today’s June 20th,” Ariadne frowned.
“A fairly significant date for all of us,” Eames muttered.
“Arthur,” Cobb began quietly. He didn’t seem quite sure how to finish.
^~*~^
This is a story about love.
This is also a story about waiting.
Arthur met Kelly at Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany. Specifically, Arthur met Kelly in the hospital, after he was airlifted in from Afghanistan.
“I didn’t know they made uniform trousers that tight,” Kelly joked.
Arthur met his gaze, feeling a little cocky from the painkillers— Don't Ask, Don’t Tell be damned. “Bring that mouth over here and I’ll show you tight.”
Kelly would later say he didn’t believe in love at first sight until that very moment.
The day California legalized gay marriage, Arthur was ready. He’d done all the research in advance, and had Kelly’s paperwork ready to go. He never really considered himself to be the marrying type (Kelly certainly wasn’t), but Arthur was going overseas for an unknown length of time, and he was stressed the fuck out. He had waited for years to have this chance. Nothing in the world could make him waste it.
“It’s fine,” Kelly said, holding a hand to Arthur’s face. “It’ll be fine.”
“What if it isn’t?” Arthur asked, quietly.
“It’s worth the risk,” Kelly assured him.
“You’re fine with this,” Arthur said, more of a question than a statement.
“No,” Kelly said, his blue eyes boring mercilessly into Arthur’s. “But you don’t really have a choice.”
“It’s life or death.”
“I know.”
Arthur kissed him under an arch made of lilacs, on an unseasonably warm day in June 2008. There was no reception— just a fast dinner for two at an Italian restaurant on the pier.
“First dance?” Kelly asked, pulling Arthur to him on the boardwalk. Sinatra piped out of the restaurant. Everything smelled like garlic and bread.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Better here than back at the park. You know I’m allergic to lilacs,” he groused, swaying in Kelly’s arms, moonlight glimmering on the bay. He sighed, leaning in to the man’s chest.
“Yes, but they were lovely,” Kelly teased. “You were lovely.” He dipped Arthur, laughing over his protests. “Was it worth it?”
For that grin, Arthur would have moved to a lilac house in a lilac forest that ran a thousand miles in every direction and was surrounded by a lilac hedge maze. He frowned, thinking of the unknown space and time that stretched in front of them. “Absolutely, Mr. Eames,” he said.
Arthur flew out to find Cobb in Venezuela the next morning.
He stayed gone for two years, unable to go home, and moving too fast to be successfully followed. Arthur preferred it that way— preferred the crushing loneliness and longing to risking his husband’s safety, or trying to keep track of which countries he had arrest records in.
And Kelly? Kelly loved him.
Kelly waited.
^~*~^
“I’m going to kill Cobb,” Eames growled, storming through the hotel room door. “Trying to set you up with some French wanker. Who exactly does he think he is? And what the hell did he expect me to do with Ariadne on surveillance?” Arthur was waiting for him, reclined on the bed, collar loose, knees kicked wide. He smiled indulgently.
“No unplanned felonies, Eames,” Arthur reminded him.
“Unplanned felonies are a risk you took when you married me,” Eames said, kicking off his shoes and crawling over Arthur. “I did warn you.”
Maybe it should have bothered him, Eames being a little unruly after all these years. It didn’t. “You did,” Arthur agreed, wrapping his arms around Eames’ neck. “Are you ready for that ‘surveillance?’”
“Maybe,” Eames purred, kissing the hollow of Arthur’s throat.
“I ordered Italian,” Arthur tempted.
“Ten years you’ve been ordering Italian for our anniversary.” Eames nipped at Arthur’s ear.
“Only the years we’ve been able to spend together,” Arthur countered. He frowned, pushing Eames back. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Never,” Eames whispered, leaning back to capture Arthur’s lips.
“Happy anniversary, Kelly,” Arthur whispered against Eames’ lips.
“Happy anniversary, darling.”
Sometimes things become old, after a while. After thirteen years together, maybe this should have been routine. Instead, the touch of Eames’ hands on Arthur’s skin was just as exciting as it always had been. The taste of his lips was just as new, and the warmth of his breath still made Arthur shiver. The weight of Eames on top of him pushed everything else out of his mind, just as it did the very first time.
Maybe it was because they had to keep this a secret. Maybe it was just the thrill of sneaking around, or the overwhelming relief when they didn’t have to. Maybe it was the agony of the two years they barely saw each other, Arthur busy keeping Cobb alive for Mal’s children, Eames busy losing half of the savings Arthur hadn’t properly hidden trying to forget his anger and worry.
All Arthur knew for sure was this: Eames was the secret he kept in the vault in his mind, and the joy he kept locked in his heart. He was an unrepentant asshole, and he was all Arthur had ever wanted.
Arthur’s alarm went off entirely too early the next morning. A lesser man might have actually whined. Instead, he just nuzzled in to Eames’ chest. Eames wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him close.
“No one’s late if they get there before you,” Eames muttered into the pillow. “Technically we can’t be late, as long as I walk in first.”
“You have to actually do surveillance today,” Arthur reminded him.
“It can wait,” Eames protested, but Arthur was already sliding out of the warm bed.
There was something special about seeing Morning Eames, sleepy and warm in the sheets. His skin was pink, and his eyes were bleary. His hair was golden in the early morning sunlight, and sticking up atrociously.
In all this time, Arthur hadn’t tired of it.
He was still thinking about it as he leaned against the door, fully suited, dimples showing, his hand on the knob. Eames wrapped his arms around him, sighing heavily. “I hate this part.”
“Me too,” Arthur murmured. “Let’s retire.”
“Where to?” Eames asked.
“Germany? Maybe a vineyard in the Rhineland.”
“Das ist eine tolle Idee.”
Arthur slipped out of the room with a smile on his face…
…and then he heard a small gasp behind him. Arthur turned, slowly. Ariadne stared at him, a horrified look on her face.
“I forgot my phone,” she said, quietly. She brushed past him, staring at the floor. “You’ve got beard burn,” Ariadne hissed.
^~*~^
Arthur drank his coffee, glancing coolly over the top of his mug at Ariadne, who was alternately glaring at him and Eames. He forced himself to pay attention to the briefing instead.
“It’s a new compound,” Cobb explained, holding up a small, gold vial. “Straight from Yusuf’s lab. Should make the mark a little more comfortable than normal.”
“So we dose his line, and then we put him in an interrogation,” Eames said. “Maybe a lie detector test. He’s ex-police— his subconscious will fall right in line.”
“Exactly,” Cobb agreed. “The only thing is: this has to mix directly in the somnacin. We’ll all get dosed.”
Eames frowned. “Little bit inconvenient.”
Ariadne stared at him, intensely. “Only if you’ve got something to hide.”
Arthur’s eyebrows knit. “Ok,” he said, slowly. “Let’s test it.”
^~*~^
The sky was blue in Arthur’s dream— a little too blue. He was standing on a boardwalk by the bay, the waves gently lapping at the wood.
“Somewhere you’re comfortable?” Eames asked, stepping up beside him.
Arthur smiled at the sunset. “Good memories.” He looked over his shoulder, and there was the little Italian restaurant, lights on, door open and inviting. He smelled garlic and bread as he approached. He walked in, but it was empty— a cold, barren room. There was only one chair and a desk.
And a lie detector.
“In,” Ariadne said behind him, and she shoved him forward.
“Now hang on—“ Eames began.
“No, she’s right,” Arthur said. “It’s my job to test things.”
“It would be better if you didn’t know you were dreaming,” Cobb said. He shrugged. “Sorry, Arthur.”
“It’s fine,” Arthur said, tersely. He held out his arm and let Ariadne hook him up.
And then she slammed her hands on the table in front of him.
“Where were you last night?” she demanded. Eames frowned. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. Cobb began to pace.
“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific,” Arthur said.
She leaned forward. “Where did you sleep last night?”
Arthur frowned. “At the hotel.”
“In what room?”
“355.”
“And who was that room rented to?”
Arthur’s frown intensified. “Eames.”
Cobb stopped pacing. “Arthur, you don’t have to actually answer—“ he began.
“I feel like I do,” Arthur interrupted. “My compliments to Yusuf.”
“And was yesterday your anniversary?” Ariadne plowed on.
“Yes,” Arthur answered, glaring coldly.
“So you cheated on your husband on your anniversary?”
“I’m not cheating on my husband,” Arthur growled.
“Tell the truth, Arthur.”
“I’m not cheating on my husband,“ he insisted.
“I’m not going under with somebody who’s riddled with relationship guilt again,” Ariadne said. Cobb winced. “Did you or did you not cheat on Kelly last night?”
Arthur sat up. “No, I didn’t fucking cheat on Kelly last night.”
“Did you fuck Eames?” she asked, bluntly.
“That depends entirely on how you define that term,” Arthur answered.
Eames smirked. “I would say ‘yes,’” he shrugged. Arthur rolled his eyes.
“Does your husband know you’re fucking Eames?” Ariadne asked.
“Wait,” Cobb said. “I’m learning a lot about Arthur this week and I really don’t want—“
“Yes,” Arthur smirked. “He’s very well aware.”
“How can you—
“Ariadne,” Eames said, clipped. “It’s time to stop.”
“We’re just testing the somnacin, Eames,” she said. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“Fine,” he said. “We’re all dosed. Test it on me.” He rolled up his sleeve and nodded at Arthur.
“Eames,” Arthur warned.
“No, no,” he said. “Let her ask her questions.” He nudged Arthur out of the chair and sat down. Ariadne hooked him up to the machine. “Like a real interrogation, love. Best to start with the basics. Name, rank and service number. Go on then.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “Name, rank and service number.”
Eames stared at her, coldly. “Squadron Sergeant Major Kelly Phillip Eames, Special Air Service. Retired.”
Arthur sighed heavily. Ariadne paled. Cobb froze.
“I—I’m sorry,” Ariadne stammered. “I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to— oh my God.” She buried her face in her hands, blushing furiously.
“One day that curiosity is going to get somebody killed,” Cobb muttered.
“Are you satisfied?” Arthur asked, glaring. Ariadne nodded, sheepishly. “Good. Luckily, we trust you,” he said, staring her down. He pointed between her and Cobb. “But if either of you ever breathe a word of this to anyone and anything happens to him, I will plug you into a dream, shoot out every major joint in your body, leave you to bleed to death, and then do it again in real life once you wake up.” His tone was flat.
“Darling,” Eames purred, smiling. “You do care.”
“Shut up, Eames,” Arthur sighed, rolling his sleeves back down. “This is at least fifty percent your fault.”
Eames leered in his direction, leaning over the back of the chair. “Only fifty?”
Arthur struggled not to smile as the music started. “I believe I said ‘at least.’” He turned back to Ariadne, who looked like she might throw up. It might have been Yusuf’s somnacin blend, or it might have just been the novelty of finally telling someone. Either way, he couldn’t really bring himself to stay mad. “You know,” he said, “I’m glad you’re thinking about security. We should talk about militarization soon.”
“Yeah?” Ariadne perked up.
“Yeah,” Arthur smiled. “It’s never a bad idea to worry about the safety of the team,” he glanced at Eames, “or the ones we care about.”
^~*~^
Afterwards, Arthur sat down to clean the PASIV, Cobb pacing beside him. “Would you sit down?” Arthur snapped. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Eames, Arthur,” Cobb whined.
Arthur smiled. Across the room, Eames was helping Ariadne. She was giving Eames the tour of her dream town mock up. He was nodding seriously, and frowning at the street layout. Arthur caught his eye, and watched a smile slowly grow.
He couldn’t believe his luck.
“I’d do it again,” Arthur said, leaning his chair back on to two legs. Cobb stopped pacing and frowned. “In a heartbeat.”
“Really? It always seems like you can’t stand the guy.”
Arthur sighed, turning away from Ariadne’s corner. “That man right there is the love of my life,” he said. He met Cobb’s eyes. “I think you get that.”
“Yeah,” Cobb said. “Yeah, I do.” He sat down and tapped his fingers on the desk. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur said.
“I just always worry,” Cobb explained. He looked sadder than Arthur had seen him in a long time. “After Mal— well, I just worry. I don’t want you to feel like it isn’t worth it.”
Arthur looked back at Eames, eyes a little soft. He thought of lilacs, and moonlight shimmering on the water of the bay. “It’s worth it,” he said. “It’s absolutely worth it.”